


The Great King's Seat

by OverexcitedDragon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blackmail, Blood and Injury, Daichi Sawamura is secretly a degenerate, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emetophilia, Humiliation, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence, Spit Kink, Urination, Victim Blaming, Violence, Vomiting, Watersports, its time for darkchi, non-con photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29585433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverexcitedDragon/pseuds/OverexcitedDragon
Summary: Daichi is a captain.That means he leads his team, he instructs them, he keeps them on their toes, he encourages them during hard times... and it also means he takes care of them, no matter what it entails.So when prissy little Tooru Oikawa starts messing with Kageyama, Karasuno's prized setter and valuable team asset, the captain knows he has to put Oikawa in his place.It's a pity—for Oikawa, that is—that Daichi gets a little too into it.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Sawamura Daichi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 48





	The Great King's Seat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whore/gifts).



> A quick little gift for Whore/vextharu1er who got my Darkchi brainworms wiggling at incredibly high speeds so I needed to thank her ❤
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH JavaJowgie for beta reading this for me! She's an incredible writer and if you're into Sebaciel please get ur food with her, she's AWESOME
> 
> BEFORE YOU READ: this is a DARK fanfic, it involves explicit sexual rape, blood, vomiting induced by violence, blackmailing, humiliation, and victim blaming. If these things squick or trigger you, please close the tab, and if you do read it still then don't come whining in my comments, that shit's on you
> 
> Look at me I'm so fucking nice putting this shit on the notes even though it's already tagged I deserve a fucking prize for how good I am

Daichi just wanted to talk. That was all.

It had become a problem faster than he anticipated. Banter and taunting were normal in volleyball, encouraged even—made the matches interesting and riled people up, brought the competition to the mental stage, but there was a point it had to stop. That point was the moment the match ended.

Oikawa seemed to disagree.

It had started off with easily dismissable aggressive remarks on the court, but it had ended with Kageyama anxious and stressed during every match.

“He messages me, calls me sometimes,” the poor kid had said, small and hunched over the ball he held tightly against his chest. “He once wanted to meet up to practice but he just poured water over me and left…”

Daichi stroked the boy’s hair reassuringly, wincing when Kageyama flinched at the touch.

“I’ll figure this out,” Daichi announced.

He was the captain, after all. He led his team, encouraged them, trained them… and he protected them as well.

Daichi needed to figure this out one way or another. For his teammate. For his _team_. A practice match with Aoba Johsai was coming up and the last thing he needed was an incapacitated setter.

Though he wasn’t expecting Oikawa to be so goddamn uncooperative.

“I’m just playing with Tobio-chan,” he rolled his eyes, leaning against the side of the closed convenience store. “He’s my underclassman too, you know? You’re not the only one who gets to mess with him.”

“I don’t mess with him, period. He’s my teammate,” Daichi grunted out.

“That’s your loss, then.”

Daichi sighed and pinched his temples. His patience was running low.“I’m just asking you to leave him alone.”

“And why should I listen to _you?_ ”

“Because I’m asking _nicely_ , Oikawa, just be a decent person!”

This seemed to strike a chord with the setter, who drew in a sharp breath before stepping towards Daichi, looming over him with a clenched jaw and intense eyes.“I’m better than _decent_ at _everything_ I do. You don’t know how it feels—”

“To be bettered by a kid with less experience and drive than you? To have your hard work be left behind by sheer talent? Have you _seen_ my first years? _Grow up, Oikawa!_ ” Daichi’s mouth felt dry. His fists shook beside him and his face scrunched up in distaste. “I know how it feels better th—”

“You don’t know _anything!_ ” Oikawa spat out, pulling Daichi by the collar. “You don’t know how it felt! You have _no_ idea how much I hated that snotty kid, the humiliation I went through!”

Daichi fell silent. He was _tired_.

“You’re a stuck up brat,” he finally said.

The punch that came after wasn’t a surprise, Daichi has had his share of school fights to catch it with some ease, squeezing Oikawa’s fist with a shaky, furious grip.

“What? Are you gonna hit me back?” Oikawa snorted.

And then he spat on Daichi’s face.

Daichi wasn’t even sure if it was anger that made him do what he did next.

Fury? Exhaustion? Some sick sense of superiority? It truly didn’t matter, what mattered was the way his fingers wrapped around Oikawa’s shirt immediately, the way his other hand curled into a firm fist, and then descended hard and fast on the pretty setter’s face.

Right on the cheekbone. Just once. Just strong enough to break skin.

Oikawa would’ve collapsed on the concrete if Daichi wasn’t holding him up by the collar. His hands wrapped tight and painful around Daichi’s wrist to bring himself back up straight, and he looked absolutely horrified.

It was a face injury, bloodier than it was serious, but there was a sense of satisfaction to hurting someone so stuck up and proud.

Daichi felt sick at himself, but the grip didn’t loosen.

It had probably been enough, too. Enough to scare off the prick, to convince him not to fuck with Daichi’s team anymore… but the way his blood rushed made it hard to think. It had been so long since Daichi felt skin give under his knuckles. Middle school, probably.

“You…” Oikawa murmured, voice shaky, eyes filled with fury and fear all at once. “You fucking—”

Daichi pushed him with force, winced a bit when the back of Oikawa’s head hit the wall behind him as he collapsed on his ass. The street lights cast shadows on the man’s face, on his perfectly chiseled jawline and his bright, soft looking hair… on the gleam of the blood dripping heavy down his cheek.

Oikawa spat on the ground, smirked. “You’re gonna beat me up? What, so I can tell the police? Get you taken away from your precious little team?”

But Daichi wasn’t a fool.

“No,” he murmured, sounding much older and much more tired. He squatted between Oikawa’s spread legs and pulled his face up by the jaw to look straight into the man’s eyes. “No, I’m going to teach you not to fuck with Karasuno.”

The soft whimper that came out of Oikawa was almost inaudible.

Daichi let go of the man’s jaw only to backhand him across the cheek, watching intently as Oikawa practically squealed and tried to curl up into a ball.

“No, no,” Daichi murmured, firmly pushing Oikawa’s knees back down with his hands. “I’m not even close to done. You think you’re so untouchable, you mess with people and walk away with no consequences...”

Daichi’s fingers twined around the soft strands of Oikawa’s hair, raising the man’s head as his other hand curled into a tight fist once again. He could feel his own heartbeat drumming in his ears, mingled with the sound of Oikawa’s panting and the curses under his breath.

“Sawamura, let me g—”

He didn’t even think before his fist descended quick and crisp against Oikawa’s gut, skin and bones and organs all twisting to accommodate his knuckles as the man beneath him immediately curled up with a silent scream and a soaked choking noise. There was a wet splat, a foul smell, and Daichi finally looked down to see the mess of Oikawa’s face, filthy with vomit and blood dripping heavy and slick down his chin and on the gravel below, mixed with the waterfall of tears rolling heavy down his reddened cheeks.

Ah, and there it was. Foul, _disgusting_ , and yet Daichi couldn’t help but feel his breath coming in a little shallow, feel his blood running hotter, his pants getting tighter.

Oikawa was shaking, mumbling pleads and curses as his fingernails dug into Daichi’s wrist, but the ringing in Daichi’s ears was loud, and it was so, so hard to think.

“You know,” he scoffed, bending Oikawa’s neck backwards and sideways with a painfully tight grip on the man’s hair. “You look much more attractive like this.”

Oikawa froze. He looked into Daichi’s eyes with fury, but whatever the setter found in them made him flinch.

“You’re fucking deranged.”

“I’m a _captain_ ,” Daichi clicked his tongue. “I’ll do anything to protect my team. I’m sure you understand, Oikawa.”

He finally let go of Oikawa’s hair, moving to grab the man’s jaw instead, thumb and index digging hard into his cheeks. The blood stained vomit was slick and cold against his hand, and it took everything not to try and push it all back into Oikawa’s mouth out of sheer disgust.

“You’ve always gotten such a mouth on you… acting like no one can put you in your place…”

Slowly, through sobs and choked out whimpers, Oikawa’s mouth opened under Daichi’s grip. His tongue glistened with spit and bile, shivering and tucked between rows of perfectly straight, white teeth. Pompous little private school kid probably never went a day in his life without flossing.

It was almost ironic how easy it was to knock prissy boy Oikawa off his high horse. He was the definition of the barking dog that never bites—never been to a fight in his life, probably threw his first punch at Daichi right then and there, never had his stomach punched so hard he could feel bones cracking. Shaking as he was, startled and frozen like a scared puppy, Daichi didn’t even need to ask to know it was all true. This was the first time Oikawa was being put in his place.

Hopefully it would be the last. Daichi just needed to make it count.

 _Kageyama…_ he reminded himself. _I’m here for Kageyama. I just need to mess him up a little, that’s all_.

That _was_ all.

But… how much is _a little_ , really?

He stared at the open mouth in front of him, dripping spit and blood, foul smelling, shaking with sobs and hiccups… Daichi wanted to mess him up _badly_.

His tongue swirled to collect saliva, before spitting a fat dollop right inside Oikawa’s wide open maw, earning an incredulous whimper from the foul man beneath him. Daichi watched Oikawa’s tongue desperately trying to push it out, but tilted his head up to stop him.

“No, swallow it,” Daichi said, stern, almost a whisper. “You think it’s funny to spit on people? Do you fight like that because you don’t know how to throw a punch? Then let’s fight your way. _Swallow it_ or I’ll make you throw up again.”

He immediately spat at Oikawa’s mouth again, saliva landing in his maw and on his cheeks, webbed and mingled with blood and bile until he couldn’t tell which was which anymore.

Tears streamed freely down Oikawa’s cheeks as he whimpered and choked on a soft cough. Wide brown eyes looked almost entirely black with how blown his pupils were. It was pure _fear_ , and Daichi couldn’t help but revel in it.

Maybe a bit too much. Maybe in a sick way. But he had been honest before—Oikawa did look pretty like this, Daichi almost wanted to kiss him.

Daichi’s hand moved to readjust his aching erection, and that didn’t escape Oikawa’s wide, trembling eyes. The man let out a body wrecking sob, and Daichi watched, mesmerized, as Oikawa’s tongue folded up and then down, and his throat rolled gently to swallow the foul solution he was drooling out.

 _Fuck_. It was harder and harder for Daichi to even remember what the point of all this was.

“There. Wasn’t that hard, was it?” He murmured more to himself than to Oikawa.

Daichi moved to straddle Oikawa, slowly setting one knee on each side of the man’s hips as his hands still kept Oikawa’s face captive. He straightened up on his knees, looming over the terrified man below him, and ah, _ah_ , it was like Oikawa was _made_ for this.

But he was made for so much more.

Daichi’s hand slid inside his own pants, finding himself painfully hard against the rough denim. He pulled out his cock and watched as Oikawa immediately squirmed in despair. Pushing and pulling, scratching and sobbing, but all it earned him was yet another punch in his soft, bruised stomach, although much weaker this time. Oikawa whimpered like an animal, struggling with the pain, trembling under Daichi’s hands.

But it was fine, it was all _fine_. Daichi would make it quick.

He stood up, leaning down just enough to keep ahold of Oikawa’s face, and held the man’s thighs down by the heels of his shoes. Daichi sighed, watching as his cock twitched and bobbed right before Oikawa’s face, red and leaking and aimed _just right_.

He moved his left thumb to Oikawa’s lower lip. It puckered out with the grip forcing his mouth open and trembled steadily under Daichi’s touch. He moved inwards, rubbed the pad of his thumb over the perfectly straight line of Oikawa’s teeth, feeling every bump and sharp curve from the right and all the way to the left, from the soft indent of his molars to the sharp digs of his canines, infuriatingly straight and spotless. Daichi hooked his thumb on the man’s cheek, then moved to quickly hook the other thumb on the opposing cheek before Oikawa could manage to bite down on his finger. He pulled the man’s lips wide open, slotted his thumbs in the jawbone inside that wet, foul mouth, right behind the rows of molars, and rested his palms around Oikawa’s jaw and neck.

Daichi stared at him for a moment—at the tears streaming down his bloody, spit drenched face and drool gently dripping from his wide open lips. He watched his own cock twitching an inch away from Oikawa’s mouth, pulsating with need.

Maybe he _was_ deranged after all. Not that it mattered.

“If you bite me I’m gonna start breaking bones,” Daichi sneered, but the voice that came out didn’t quite sound like his own.

Trembling hands moved to squeeze as his wrist, pleading, _begging_ , and it felt ecstatic to just ignore them all with a single slow roll of his hips, gently coaxing himself between Oikawa’s shivering teeth, right into his putrid mouth and all the way to the back of his throat as the man’s eyes widened further and further in horror.

Oikawa choked and retched around Daichi’s cock, throat spasming with the intrusion as Daichi kept pushing deeper and deeper. When he finally bottomed out, he sighed at the tight heat enveloping his cock, holding the man’s head in place with a firm grip.

Oikawa’s nose was buried tight against his groin, almost hidden under the wiry mess of dark hair trailing down Daichi’s stomach, and he looked just _perfect_.

“I really feel like I should be feeling bad about this,” Daichi murmured, slowly bringing his hips back as Oikawa choked and wheezed wet around the slide of his length. “Like this is some horrible thing that will haunt me forever… but, for some reason, I don’t feel anything at all…” he scoffed to himself, watching the man beneath him fighting weakly as Daichi thrust back in steadily, carefully, feeling the wrap of Oikawa’s tongue, the twitch of his throat, all over again. “I actually feel that… of all the people in the world, you deserve this the most.”

He quickened his rhythm bit by bit, listening intently to the broken sobs and the wet gagging that came with every thrust. Daichi groaned low and heavy at the velvet soft slide of Oikawa’s throat.

“You and your delusional little fans, prancing around like you own every room you step foot in…” He sighed heavily. “No one ever put you in your place, did they?”

It was harder and faster now, a violent thrusting of his hips aimed straight at the back of Oikawa’s throat, drawing louder and more desperate retching with each movement. Daichi let go of Oikawa’s mouth to hold him by the hair instead, pulling the brown strands into tight fists to keep the man still as he relentlessly fucked his throat.

Oikawa wouldn’t bite him, that was for sure. The man had just taken his first real punch, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to sign up for more.

“Would you look at yourself, now…” Daichi groaned, licking his lips. “So quiet and polite. I bet it’s not your first time, either, if it were you’d be throwing up again…”

Oikawa’s whole body rocked in a pained sob. Daichi felt hands grabbing at his thighs, shaky fists curling tight around the fabric of his jeans for purchase, comfort, _anything_. All it got him was a tighter grip on his hair.

“Is that how you’re so in sync with your team? You let them fuck you as a reward?”

Whines, whimpers, and the stupid little man below him even dared to glare up at Daichi.

He scoffed, tongue rolling inside his mouth to collect saliva as he held eye contact with Oikawa. Daichi spat on the man’s face again, watching as those defiant little eyes closed immediately, eyelashes glistening with tears and the strings of saliva webbing over them.

The soft slide back and forth into Oikawa’s slick throat was good, _fantastic_ even, but the compliance, the absolute _fear_ in the man’s eyes… it made Daichi’s whole body shake in a sick pleasure he didn’t even know he could feel.

What was this for, again? Something about revenge, something about Kageyama, or about putting Oikawa in his place.

But right now it was all just about fucking the Great King’s throat until he cried like a bitch.

Daichi felt the heat building up in his gut little by little. He quickened his pace, tightened his grip until he felt strands coming out, groaned loud and low with each thrust deep into that tight hole. Oikawa all but punched his legs in a desperate but poor attempt to push him away. It just made it all that much _better_ —the sobbing, the high pitched whines crudely aborted over and over again, the shaky hands pummeling uselessly at him…

It was the most sickening orgasm of his life. And it felt _incredible_.

Daichi practically moaned as he buried his cock deeper than Oikawa could take, feeling the roll of the man’s throat around him as he spilled too far down to even give him the option to spit.

Oikawa gagged and coughed around him, and Daichi suddenly realized he couldn’t breathe. He pulled out just an inch, just enough to let the man draw breath while still holding him in place.

Then one of his hands let go of Oikawa’s hair to dig inside his back pocket.

Daichi pulled out his phone, and between unlocking the screen and finding the camera app, Oikawa realized too little, too late what he was doing.

When the flash went off, Oikawa’s whole body froze. The Aoba Johsai setter’s bloodied face was perfectly centered on the screen, wide eyes staring in horror at the camera, and reddened lips wrapped tight around a spit slick, blood stained cock.

His hands fell to the ground, flaccid and trembling against the rough concrete, and there was suddenly no more fight in Oikawa’s darkened eyes. Daichi finally pulled out, stuffing his softening cock back into his underwear as he looked intently at the picture in his phone.

Daichi turned the screen around, facing Oikawa.

The blue glow highlighted his face, along with every bruise and fluid plastered onto it. The setter let out a drawn out whimper as his horrified eyes focused on the screen, then he looked up, straight into Daichi’s eyes, and all but sobbed.

“You care about your reputation, don’t you?” Daichi said, carefully pronouncing every syllable to make sure Oikawa understood. “You care about what people think of you, right? Well… I care about my boys. So let’s cut a deal, Oikawa.”

It was all he needed to say.

“I’m sorry…” Oikawa mumbled, hoarse and slurred out. “ _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_ …”

Daichi drew in a long breath, taking a short step back to properly take in the damage, the _results_.

There was a hint of disgust and amusement in his face when he realized Oikawa’s pants were tenting.

“Would you look at that… so you _do_ like that kinda stuff.”

Oikawa took one breath, two, and gritted out under streaming tears. “ _You fucking_ —”

But his words were cut off by his own mewl as Daichi’s foot descended hard and fast on Oikawa’s stiff erection.

“ _Please_ just… _stop_ …” the setter sobbed, holding onto Daichi’s leg with trembling fingers as his whole body twitched.

“But you’re enjoying it, aren’t you?”

“ _No, nonono…_ ”

“You _like it_. That’s why you mess with people? You want them to fuck you up?”

“ _No, please…_ ”

“Please, what?”

“ _Please fucking stop_ —”

“No.”

Oikawa drew in a sharp breath, head collapsing against the leg before him whimpering and sobbing as Daichi rubbed the sole of his sneaker hard over his crotch.

“I’m sorry… I’m _sorry…_ ”

Over and over, more of a beg than an actual statement of regret, of apology. Oikawa didn’t really care about what he had done, and at this point neither did Daichi. He felt himself going stiff again, sighing heavily as he gently squeezed himself through denim.

“You’re not,” Daichi clicked his tongue. “But you don’t have to be. We have a deal, right?”

Oikawa nodded desperately.

“Are you going to keep messing with my team?”

The setter shook his head, breathing sharp and quick as his whole body trembled.

“Good, now look at me.”

When Oikawa finally managed to turn his face upwards he froze in horror as he watched Daichi slowly pull his cock back out. Half hard and still slick with blood stains and Oikawa’s spit.

“I said I wouldn’t, I said I’d leave you alone—” Oikawa mumbled, voice breaking with each syllable. “Please, please, I’m sorry _I’m sorry I’m sorry..._ ”

Daichi didn’t grace him with a response. He knew it already, this wasn’t about Kageyama anymore… it hasn’t been about Kageyama since he stuffed Oikawa’s mouth in the first place. No, there was something foul about it all, and Daichi could tell himself he was just being a good captain so he could sleep at night, but the primal pleasure that came from breaking a man down to nothing but begging and sobbing had nothing to do with volleyball or team kinship.

And the ecstasy he felt when he watched Oikawa’s whole body flinch and his head turn away with a horrified cry as Daichi aimed the warm stream of piss directly on his face was just indescribable.

He watched Oikawa’s disheveled hair darkening as it dampened, piss dripping over his face, his clothes, pooling around him on the concrete. The man barely stirred, all but shivering softly as Daichi sighed with the sick relief of emptying his bladder over the prettiest player of the prefecture.

Daichi shook his prick dry and tucked himself back into his pants before finally stepping away from Oikawa’s crotch. He squatted before the man, gazing longingly at the mess he had made. He took another picture, but this one was for himself. The flash made Oikawa flinch.

“You’re sick…” Oikawa murmured, sobs wracking his body in a soft rhythm.

Daichi tapped the phone to his lips, lost in thought for a short moment as he stared intently at the foul state of the man before him.

“Will you mess with my team again?” He finally asked.

“ _No_ …” Oikawa sobbed, wet and desperate. “I said it, I _said_ I won’t—”

“Then it doesn’t matter how sick I am.”

Oikawa looked up, frowning and caught somewhere between confused and terrified. He flinched when Daichi moved to stand up with a soft groan, but the man was done with Oikawa.

His job was done, his conscience was clear.

Daichi took one last look at Oikawa, caked in vomit, blood, and piss, and shivering under the cool breeze of winter. He sighed, pocketed his phone, then zipped his own jacket open and draped it over Oikawa’s shivering form.

The man recoiled violently, but couldn’t help pulling the fabric tighter around his cold and tattered body.

“I’ll see you in a couple weeks,” Daichi said, but wondered how likely it would be for the setter to participate in the practice match at all.

Surely, it would be enough time for his bruises to heal just fine.

Daichi walked away from the incessant crying.

* * *

“Captain,” Kageyama pulled at his sleeve gently, stopping Daichi from heading to the court. “I—I forgot to let you know. Oikawa stopped bothering me.”

“Oh. That’s great, Kageyama,” he smiled, petting the boy’s hair.

“I… just wanted you to know. In case you wanted to talk to him about this today. You don’t have to, anymore.”

Daichi squeezed Kageyama’s shoulder reassuringly. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll leave him alone, then.”

The boy thanked him with a short bow before jogging into the court. Daichi followed right after, taking in the grandeur of the Aoba Johsai gymnasium. Karasuno was so small and stuffy that practicing with power schools such as this was always a privilege—the bigger the ceiling, the more similar it would feel to the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium.

His eyes scanned the court slowly, finding Oikawa practicing with the Aoba Johsai team.

Ah, so he _did_ come.

Oikawa’s eyes found Daichi mid serve and the setter immediately lost form, dropping to his feet with a chorus of confusion from his teammates.

Daichi smiled politely and waved.

He walked towards the setter, hoping dearly that Oikawa would be enough of a man to not let trivial bickering get in the way of a proper match.

Daichi extended an open hand for a greeting.

“Been a long time, I hope you guys are ready for us.”

Oikawa was silent for a moment, expression unreadable as he looked down at Daichi carefully. When his hand finally wrapped around Daichi’s, it was a firm handshake that felt a tad too long.

The buzzing of the court around them continued, people warming up, coaches drilling the teams, the squeaking of sneakers and the hard bounce of volleyballs filling the air with the familiar background buzz of a practice match warm-up.

“Daichi-chan,” Oikawa murmured. Daichi winced at the unwanted and plain rude nickname. “I was wondering…”

“Surely, this is about the match.”

Oikawa’s jaw snapped shut with a click of his teeth, before he took a deep breath and parted his lips yet again. “I was wondering…” He continued in a barely audible whisper that seemed clearer than any of the hustling and bustling around them. “If we could… go out… again… sometime…”

Daichi paused, raising his eyebrows.

Huh. _Huh._

He raised another hand, wrapping it tightly around Oikawa’s, firmly trapping digits and knuckles in between his calloused palms. Daichi took a small step closer to the setter who gently shivered in front of him, leaning closer to his ear.

“Your teammates are too gentle, aren’t they?”

Oikawa lowered his gaze, lips pressed in a firm line.

Daichi released the man’s hand, shuffling in his jacket pocket—an extra one he had held onto just in case—for his phone. He extended it to the man before him, and Oikawa flinched at the sight.

“Your phone number. Call yourself.”

The setter’s hands shook the whole time he held Daichi’s phone, but when Oikawa was done, Daichi took it back with a smile.

“I already have the perfect contact photo, too.”

Oikawa went rigid, and then slowly nodded with his eyes trained to the ground.

Daichi curtly thanked him before turning around to start his own warm ups. There was a sick hope that Oikawa’s mental state would make it harder for him to focus on the match, and Karasuno needed a win to raise morale.

He was a good captain, after all. Even if it meant not fighting a powerhouse school at their best, sometimes all they needed was a leg up, especially when it involved prissy private school boys who thought too highly of themselves.

That line of thinking didn’t last too long, halting immediately when Oikawa’s serve was aimed directly at Daichi’s face, fast and brutal.

Well, then.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter @overexciteddrgn or send me Haikyuu lewd ideas at https://curiouscat.qa/OverexcitedDrgn if you're feeling spicy
> 
> ALSO go read whore's writing, she's one of the best fucking NSFW writers I've ever met


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